“I shall certainly,” Australia whispers, head tilted back, eyes staring unseeingly at the stars. His face looks slack, blank, but how much of that is due to uncaring shock and how much is due to the moonlit shadows and a month’s worth of tear-streaked dirt, New Zealand cannot tell. “Have eternal nightmares.” He whispers, words escaping out into the ( Read more... )

Once upon a time, there was a little, very young boy. This boy didn’t know who his mother was, or who his father was. In fact, this little boy didn’t know a lot of things - why, he didn’t even know the words for mother and father! Perhaps, if this little boy had been left alone, all by himself in the clearing full of light and twisted, gnarled tree ( Read more... )

Australia is many things.

He is England's bastard, replacement, rebound son, a glorified prison that has risen far beyond its original purpose. He has learnt by now that he should never go drinking with England, the man makes him wants to shake him out of his stupor and scream at him that despite Eureka, he will never be America. He will always be ( Read more... )

Beneath The Radiant Southern Cross, They'll … Uh … Gamble Away Training Sessions…?

Australia knows that he is young. He is one of the youngest of all England colonies, he should be thankful that they allow him anywhere near the war room. He should be flattered that they allow him to be in the same country as the fucking war room. He should be.

( But he isn't. )